


Rise

by UltVisual



Series: Free [2]
Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, but this time with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltVisual/pseuds/UltVisual
Summary: Sanghyeok and Jinseong go out to eat.





	Rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cajplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cajplex/gifts).



> @cajplex this one's because u asked for Faker being comforted. I really tired to make it soft n fluffy but it just ran away without me...
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoy it lol

Sanghyeok’s phone pings in the corner of his vision as he turns off his computer, the screen of his phone glowing with the notification. For a long minute Sanghyeok stares at the dark screen of his computer, the glowing screen of his phone floating beside him like a phantom. 

Sanghyeok can’t ignore it forever, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over to shut the screen off before sweeping it into his pocket, resolutely ignoring the message.

When Sanghyeok emerges from the computer room, Jinseong’s standing in the hall.

“Do you want to go out to eat?” He asks, looking over to Sanghyeok. “There’s not much here.”

“Sure,” Sanghyeok agrees after a moment, slightly surprised. With the summer split in full swing, they’ve been sticking to quick meals in the gaming house, but at this point even Sanghyeok is hardly going to say no to a chance to get some fresh air and a change of scenery. Jinseong gives him a quick smile, and the two of them leave the gaming house. 

It’s a nice evening, not yet dark enough to be chilly, but the sun has dipped halfway past the horizon, leaving just the remnants of the sweltering afternoon heat to warm the air. The two of them wander down the street, not particularly rushed despite the knowledge of the scrims that wait for them back at the house. Sanghyeok hadn’t asked if Jinseong had a specific destination in mind, but the other boy’s footsteps are assured enough that the lack of knowing doesn’t particularly bother him.

Eventually they slip into a small restaurant, almost more of a cafe. It’s fairly empty, only a few other tables occupied, and their orders are taken quickly by a cheery waiter. While they’re waiting, Jinseong pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. The restaurant has a TV hooked up to the ceiling, and Sanghyeok watches it, the mindless entertainment more appealing than the thought of the message that lies in wait for him on the lockscreen of his phone. 

There’s a baseball game being played, but Sanghyeok doesn’t recognize the team. One player strikes the ball, sending it soaring into the sky, and quickly dashes around the diamond, the camera zooming into the silently cheering crowd as the player completes their home run.

Jinseong puts his phone away, and when Sanghyeok meets his eyes, he looks like he wants to say something. Sanghyeok gives him a questioning look, and Jinseong’s flicker away from his before returning, something in them steadying.

“Are you okay?” Jinseong asks bluntly.

“What?” Sanghyeok says, blinking. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Even as he speaks, his mind flashes back to his conversation with Junsik, but there’s no chance that’s what Jinseong is referring to.

Jinseong hesitates again, as if choosing his words carefully. “You just seem…”

He trails off a little, voice fading as he searches for the word.

“Alone.”

“Last time I checked we were sharing a dorm with eight other people,” Sanghyeok says dryly.

“Alright, maybe alone isn’t the right word,” Jinseong amends. Jinseong’s like that, willing to accommodate other’s opinions easily and fit to them while still maintaining his own. “Isolated, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sanghyeok says, tone sharper than he really means to be. Maybe Jinseong’s too good at that, his flexibility letting his slip into spaces that Sanghyeok wishes he wouldn’t.

“We’re a team,” Jinseong says, gaze fixed on Sanghyeok with an intensity like he’s trying to pierce through Sanghyeok’s layers of stubbornness so he’ll truly listen. “Or at least we’re supposed to be. It’s hard when not everyone will open up and communicate.”

“Are you criticizing my performance?” Sanghyeok asks, bristling defensively.

“Not in game,” Jinseong says with a short shake of his head. “But otherwise… you’re just… closed off.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sanghyeok insists, growing defensive as Jinseong looks at him. Jinsseong opens his mouth, as if to respond, but before Jinseong can say anything more, the waiter arrives with their food, cutting him off.

Sanghyeok isn't usually too preoccupied with what he eats, but in the face of Jinseong’s questioning caring, he’s more than happy to let the food serve as a cover for him to avoid the other boy’s prying. Jinseong seems to realize this, and with a sigh, begins eating his food as well.

Their meal can only last so long, and by the time that they’ve finished eating and paying the bill, Jinseong has a determined expression on his face.

They’ve barely exited the restaurant before Jinseong speaks.

“It’s okay,” He says. “I understand that you don’t have to share everything with us. I get it, we’re new, we’re not exactly your close friends. But still, it’s okay, you don’t need to just… wall yourself away when ever we stop talking about league and start talking about ourselves.”

Sanghyeok begins to retort, but even as he begins to speak he realizes it’s true. He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t even seen himself doing it, but he has. He’s been waiting for SKT to come home. Not SKT the organization, but the people that compose the SKT that surrounded him for so long. Even as the organization had changed, there had always been a familiar teammate there. Seongwoong at first, a solitary light in the fog of uncertainty. Then Junsik and Jaewan, by his side as new faces arrived and left.

Now…

Sanghyeok is alone, those familiar faces are continents away, leaving him.

Standing there in the street, Jinseong watching him quietly, Sanghyeok has the urge to apologize. To apologize for shutting himself away, for not seeing them as a part of SKT. So he does.

“I’m sorry,” Sanghyeok finally says. “You’re right. I…”

Around him, the world has changed. More importantly perhaps though, the people who Sanghyeok trusted most, they’ve changed. They’re moved on, away, no longer an arms length away from Sanghyeok. Instead, they’ve been replaced, and therein is the problem. They weren’t replaced, weren't forced out. They, Jaewan, Sungu, Junsik, they made a choice. A choice to leave. And no matter how much Sanghyeok wishes he couldn’t he has to live with it, that they chose to leave, to go, to spread their wings and fly away to different skies, catching drafts that are invisible to Sanghyeok to let them soar away.

Sanghyeok touches his cheek mindlessly, and with a start realizes that he's crying, the tears falling silently. He blinks, the emotion slowly registering, and Jinseong’s tentatively hugging him as Sanghyeok buries his face in his shoulder and cries, the silence broken by the sob that tears itself from his throat as he clings to the other boy. Jinseong’s saying something comforting, his voice soft, but Sanghyeok can’t discern his exact words through the haze of tears, his senses focused down to the damp warmth of his tears, the way the fabric of Jinseong’s jacket bunches under his fingers as he clings to him.

Sanghyeok barely knows what he’s crying for. For his loss, for his loneliness, for his inability to move on, for Jinseong’s kindness. Maybe it's not even that deep, just pent up stress from a string of losses, of too many nights of not enough sleep, of the knowledge that a million eyes are watching them, waiting for them to fail. In the end though, it hardly matters.

He doesn’t know how long he cries for, but when he finally pulls away, the streetlamps have switched on, their pale light pouring down around the two of them. Jinseong’s still looking at him, and his expression has softened, the previous determination and intensity replaced by something gentler.

“Let’s go home,” Jinseong says quietly.

Their walk back is quiet. Jinseong doesn't make any attempt at conversation, and Sanghyeok's glad for it, too drained to even entertai the idea. With a fatigue and emptiness though, a sense of catharsis has settled over Sanghyeok, his mind swept clear of any stress, leaving him with a feeling of detachment as they approach the gaming house.

Jinseong guides him up the stairs, hand warm around Sanghyeok's, only letting Sanghyeok's hand slip from his when they've entered the house.

"I'll see you in a minute?" Jinseong asks, tilting his head towards the door to the computer room.

Sanghyeok blinks at him. "Sure."

Sanghyeok watches Jinseong vanish into the computer room, leaving him to stand alone in the hallway. The door swings shut with a quiet click, the soft sound granted a significance in the silence that follows. For a moment, Sanghyeok just stands there, staring at the door in a vague kind of contemplation. From beyond the door, he hears Taemin say something, followed by a laugh and short response from Jinseong, the exchange muffled. Even unable to hear it clearly, Sanghyeok feels a smile form on his face, idly imagining what Taemin could've said to make Jinseong laugh.

When Sanghyeok finally takes out his phone, it’s with a quiet kind of acceptance, his previous stress and unhappiness not completely gone, but tempered by a new understanding.

The awakens with a soft glow as Sanghyeok reads the message, his throat tightening as he reads the words. He stares down at them, screen dimming slowly as he stands there immobilized, and when he blinks, a single tear distorts the words for a moment before the screen blinks off.

For a moment, drying the tear from his cheek, Sanghyeok almost wonders if it wasn't real, if Junsik's words were no more than a hopeful wish. When he looks again though, they're still there, waiting for him.

_I miss you too_

**Author's Note:**

> titling this rise caused me physical pain


End file.
